


Bound

by hammer



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Bonding Through Trauma, Denial of Feelings, Frottage, Healing Sex, M/M, Matchmaker Gisela, Porn with Feelings, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2019-10-06 10:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17343263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hammer/pseuds/hammer
Summary: Bound, the Irishman says to Ragnar when asked if he and Uthred are brothers. If he had the strength, Uhtred would voice his approval of the word. But he does not. And he hopes no one can tell he is not the same man.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in episode 3 of season 2, right after Uhtred is rescued from the slavers. 
> 
> I've been siting on this since season 2 came out, and finally decided to finish it. I hope you like it :)

As he sits around the fire with the others, Uhtred feels broken. His skin is warmed by the campfire, but his heart is small and cold. It is barely beating, it seems. He is a stranger to himself. He fears he will never be the same, like part of him had been broken on that slave ship, his soul chipped away at with every pull of an oar, and its shards lost at sea, like Halig had lost his life, never to be found again. Gone are his thirst for life, his playfulness, his fierce desire to protect those he loves. England is in chaos and he cannot bring himself to care; he can barely swallow the food in front of him.

Too exhausted to string up words together, Uhtred inwardly thanks the gods for Finan, who speaks for him now. _Bound_ , the Irishman says to Ragnar when asked if he and Uhtred are brothers. If he had the strength, Uthred would voice his approval of the word. But he does not. And he hopes no one can tell he is not the same man.

**

After cleaning Uhtred's wounds and having trimmed his hair, Hild unfolds the cloth, revealing Uhtred's sword, which she had kept safe all these months.

“You are Uhtred, son of Uhtred. Lord of Bebbanburg. It is time you remember that.” That she would see through him, like she could always do, is not surprising. Uhtred is afraid that if Hild looked too hard, she might not recognize what she saw this time around, would know the man she knew was gone forever.

Pushing the thought away, Uhtred reverently runs his hand over the sword's pommel before grasping it. “You kept the blade sharp,” Uhtred remarks, holding the blade before him.

“I knew you'd return.”

“She is heavier than I remember,” he admits, lowering it back to the ground. The heaviness of his old weapon confirms what he already knows: he's weak. Weaker than he's ever felt before, even as a lad. “How did Alfred come to know of my fate? You?”

Hild nods.

“I will not forget. You will always have my protection.” He makes the promise, because he means it from the bottom of his heart, fully aware his strength would fail Hild if she needed his protection now.

“I could not ask for more. And this...” Hild reaches for something in her pouch. “This is my gift to you. Protection.”

Utrted takes the small crucifix from her, fondly cups her cheek. “You are too good a woman for God alone.”

“Uhtred. It _is_ you,” Hild replies, laughing softly. It is such a sweet sound, Uhtred's answering smile is as bright as the sun descending toward the horizon behind him, although he is too tired to maintain the smile for long. They stay like this for a long while, foreheads pressed together, savoring the joy of being reunited. Until Hild pulls back, some new concern worrying her brow.

“I thought Finan might need the same care. But maybe you should be the one to help him feel like a human being again. After all, I do not know him like I know you.”

Uhtred takes the folded leather pouch containing the scissors and the balm.“I know him,” he affirms, standing up. No one could have guessed how well they had come to know one another while being held as slaves, rowing, bailing, sharing scraps of food, protecting Halig, keeping warm, escaping, keeping each other from despairing completely.

“Where is he?” she inquires.

Uhtred takes a look around the field. “Close by,” he answers with a shrug. “We never stray far from each other,” he adds, regretting his words for fear that Hild would take it as a sign of weakness. Instead, she smiles at him as she hands him a flask of fresh water.

“That is _good_ , Uhtred. You've looked after each other for months. I could not imagine you and Finan doing otherwise now that you are both free.” She takes Uhtred's sword with her. “I will keep it safe for just a bit longer. Now, go,” she bids him before returning to camp.

Uhtred walks over the crest of the hillock, finding Finan resting just down the slope, sprawled on his back, just like Hild had found Uhtred. Finan jerks out of his slumber when he hears someone treading through the tall grasses.

“It is only me,” Uhtred soothes. Finan sighs, and sluggishly folds his legs as he sits up, watching curiously as Uhtred sits next to him.

“What...?” Finan starts asking. Then he reaches for Uhtred's hair, fingertips playing over the ends of his freshly cut locks. He then runs his hand over his own matted hair. “I must look like a bloody savage...”

“No. Never,” Uhtred counters, unrolling the pouch after placing the flask on the ground between them.

Finan lets Uhtred cut through the front of his tunic. Uhtred balls it and throws it out of view into the tall weeds, hoping to banish the suffering attached to it. It does not work, of course, but they both laugh at the good riddance, like two young boys. Uhtred is reminded of the last time he had heard the sound of Finan's laughter, after they had managed to break free from the slavers in the forest. He is quite certain it had been the only time he had heard the Irishman laugh. A pity, truly. Their smiles soon fade, as they both know what comes next.

Finan turns around. Uhtred's eyes prickle with tears when he sees Finan's back, lacerated – just like his own, no doubt. He understands now why Hild had been so quiet whilst she had treated him.

Uhtred gently tends to Finan's wounds, then patiently cuts a few inches off his hair, just as Finan requests. He even trims his beard shorter for him. When it is over, they fall into an embrace, chest to chest, arms tightly wound around each other's neck.

“Promise you will never leave me,” Uhtred whispers, his voice sounding foreign, still too thin and unsure to his own ears.

“I swear it,” comes the reply, Finan's own voice cracking, a fragile sound that should never come out of such a strong man. The muscles of their arms loosen at the promise, anxiety seeping out of both men, but they hold on still, unwilling to let go.

The sun is disappearing below the horizon when Hild returns, holding a pile of clean garments in her arms. She sees the way they are holding each other, eyes closed, at ease and blind to the world around them. She means to retrace her steps and leave them in peace, but it's too late. They'd heard her, of course.

**

The three of them walk back to camp, Finan trailing behind. “Hild,” Uhtred murmurs, “what you saw... just now...”

“I saw two brothers comforting each other after surviving hell,” she replies, with a gentle smile. She guides Uhtred to a small tent. “I've prepared a bed for you and Finan, so you don't have to sleep on the fields. Or be apart. Get some more sleep. There will be more food later.”

“Thank you,” Uhtred says, kissing her forehead.

**

_High waves are tipping the vessel dangerously. The glacial wind whips Uhtred hair into his eyes, but he ignores it. The water is lapping at Uhtred's ankles with the fluctuating movements of the slave ship. Of course, this is where Uhtred belongs; not free, not in England, not with his dear friends, or his brother, but here. He just cannot remember why, though._

_“Pull!” Sverri says, with a crack of his damned whip. Freezing rain starts falling._

_Because this is where he belongs, and he does not have a choice, Uhtred obeys. And every time he pulls the oar, the water level goes up._

_“Pull!” It is not Sverri's voice this time, and Uhtred dares to sneak a look as he pulls, just in time to see the slaver morph into that coward Guthred as the water reaches his hips._

_“Pull!” It is Uhtred's treacherous uncle barking the order this time, the water rising up to Uhtred's chest._

_“Pull!” Kjartan orders harshly in Danish, the water now up to Uhtred's neck._

_Panic rises within Uhtred's breast as he tries to take a deep breath and fails, as the water climbs to his neck, quickly rising higher._

_“Uhtred?” he hears, a faint, concerned voice from behind him, where Finan always was on the ship, day in and day out. That's when Uhtred realizes what is horribly wrong: it is not the rising water, it is the spot in front of him that is empty: the unmanned oar. Halig is missing._

_“Pull!” Halig yells suddenly beside Uhtred. His face is pale, his eyes sunken, his lips blue. Blood is pouring from the wound on his shoulder. An arrow is lodged in his thigh._

_“Halig!” Uhtred cries, in the throes of horror. “Help me!” But Halig only watches passively as Uhtred becomes submerged, his cries for help uselessly bubbling up to the surface of the sea._

**

“Uhtred,” Finan utters, gently shaking the Dane awake. Uhtred gulps down a large swallow of air, arms flailing for a moment before realizing it had been a nightmare.

“Halig was there, he let me drown. He was dead, he was punishing me...” Uhtred mumbles.

Finan shushes him quietly, slipping his arms around Uhtred.

“It is my fault. If only I had waited, instead of trying to escape, Halig would be alive,” Uhtred says breathlessly.

“You couldn't have known. You couldn't have predicted Sverri would return to England, or that Ragnar would be there for you. Stop blaming yourself. We _all_ agreed to run, including Halig. We had no more hope. _All_ of us. ”

Uhtred takes a deep breath. He brings their foreheads together, so they are breathing the same air, like they had done so many times before, when their freedom was out of reach, and their breath like small clouds in the harsh cold of Iceland. Finan holds Uhtred, gently rocking them until Uhtred calms down.

They are free now, free to leave here, if they wished. Free to roam, to eat as much as they liked, to find a woman to bed, and yet... And yet, Uhtred feels content here, with Finan, under the furs which are too warm for the season. Uhtred welcomes the heat, as if he could never have enough of it ever again. Even Finan's breath feels like fire on Uhtred's cheek. It feels like a gift from the gods.

“I'll fetch you water,” Finan finally announces. But Uhtred holds him in place, pressing their heads together a little harder.

“ No. I am not thirsty,” Uhtred mumbles.

“What can I do? I wish to help,” Finan whispers.

Noises filter from the campfire; laughter, light and carefree, not cruel or mocking, like the laughter of the slave masters. Uhtred's insides knot at the memory of it. The thought of joining his friends by the fire, even though Uhtred knows it is safe, fills him with dread, its cold hand clawing inside his ribs.

“Then, remain here with me,” Uhtred finally says, because only Finan can keep the dread at bay.

Uhtred's stomach drops when he feels Finan moving. He thinks Finan is slinking away, but instead he is only shifting, to better wrap his arm around the Dane's chest and gently drag him back down to the bed.

“I'm here,” Finan murmurs as he pulls Uhtred closer, until his body is flush with Uhthed's. He pulls the furs back over them. “Does this hurt?” Finan asks, mindful of the wounds on Uhtred's back.

“A little,” Uhtred answers truthfully. Finan tries to put some distance between them but, Uhtred reaches back, clutching at Finan's hip. “No, please...” he protests, backing up until their bodies are slotted together again, the wounds on his back pressed to Finan's chest.

Uhtred keeps his hand on Finan's hip because he wants him as close as possible. Just as they seemed to share the same mind, the same nightmares, Uhtred feels they might share the same body. Because they bore the same scars, suffered the same torture. When the Irishman had driven a sword through Sverri's treacherous throat and told him to pull, Finan's hand had been Uhtred's hand and his voice Uhtred's voice. The utter relief had been shared, the heavy burden falling of their tired shoulders at the same moment, and Uhtred's gratitude fully known to Finan by a simple tearful look.

Finan is breathing in Uhtred's ear, warm and comforting. Dread ebbs away. Unconsciously, Uhtred relaxes his hold on Finan's hip, but he does not let go of it, petting it gently, following the rhythm of Finan's respiration. After a moment, Finan's breath quickens, each puff sending a pleasant shudder down Uhtred's body and the Dane rocks his hips, pressing back into Finan before he can stop himself.

Finan groans. Uhtred holds his breath, feeling the growing hardness against his arse. Sharing the same mind and body means they share the same needs, and Uhtred is only marginally surprised to feel his own member swell in response. It had been so long since he had felt anything akin to arousal. He knows it had been the same for Finan. When one's body was assailed daily by thirst, hunger, cold and exhaustion, carnal desires became extinct.

The desire gathering in his loins feels heavenly. Like fresh water on the tongue of a man dying of thirst, it is exquisite, and he wants more, wants to drink it all, drown in it even.

“Uhtred?” Finan whispers hoarsely. Gods, it feels good to hear Finan call him that, instead of Osbert. Uhtred simply cups Finan's arse, inviting him to rut against him.

Soon, Finan's whole length is rubbing against Uhtred's arse, hard and so hot, even through the fabric of their braies. Uhtred's mind is lust addled, his cock now fully erect as he enjoys the way the muscles of Finan's arse feel under his fingers, warm and firm.

Suddenly, Uhtred realizes that he's the only one left moving. He stops too, wondering. Judging by the swell of Finan's cock and the harshness of his breaths on the back of Uhtred's neck, Finan isn't averse, not at all. Is he shy then? Ashamed? Uhtred knew some men lay with men. Some because they preferred it, some occasionally, when the desire arose. Uhtred had never felt the pull, not before today. Not until his trust in Finan, and the safety of his embrace had seamlessly blended with his arousal. He is not ashamed, and neither should Finan be.

When Uhtred cannot stand the stillness anymore, he turns around. They pause for a moment, with trembling breaths, Finan eyes searching for his in the quasi-darkness, questioning. Uhtred shoves down the furs, and then his undergarments, Finan following suit right after, hands shaking in haste and arousal.

The moment their members spring free, they are back at clutching each other. Finan buries his face into Uhtred's neck in an attempt to muffle his groans of pleasure. The slide of their cocks is aided by how wet they are, their heads leaking even more as they ride their pleasure wherever it leads them. Uhtred relishes the feel of Finan's large hand on his arse, squeezing, eagerly urging him on. His balls are aching with the need for release, and he bites on a moan when it finally comes, arching against Finan's own shaking body, the Irishman grunting against the sweat slicked skin of his shoulder. Their hot, thick seed pulses out of them, mingling, coating their throbbing cocks as they glide against one another with the last tremors of their orgasms.

The pleasure is raw, as if Thor had struck his hammer right into Uhtred's core, splitting his spine with a bolt of lightning. It hurts. Like the pins and needles one gets after using a limb that had fallen asleep, the awakening has a cost. A cost Uhtred does not mind paying for getting back a piece of himself.

**

If it seems to everyone that a night's sleep has done wonders for Uhtred's mood and appetite, well, they are not entirely wrong. What they do not know, is that last night, Uhtred had realized he could become himself again. He'd gotten the proof in that small tent, under the furs with Finan. He'd felt despair ebb away, and a fire burning inside of him. The healing warmth of it convinced him that he could piece together his soul _again_ , that with Finan by his side he could become Uhtred _again_ and meet destiny head on _again_.

So when Hild tells him Gisela is alive and in hiding, he does not hesitate. And when he tells Finan his plans to save her, the man's eyes narrow, hardening with resolve.

“Get me some armor and a sword, my Lord, and I'll follow and protect you until my dying breath...”

“I know,” Uhtred replies, smiling at the spark in Finan's brown eyes. Finan smiles back, and it is everything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than I thought, but here it is. I like to think Gisela would have encouraged Uhtred and Finan to get it on, and that the three of them would be very happy together (Hello OT3!) Warning for brief M/F, in case that's not your cup of tea.

It’s been weeks since Uhtred’s settled in Coccham. With his health improved, his strength has returned fully, which means he can protect those he loves and he sleeps much better for it. Some nights he sleeps fitfully, and Gisela only has to gently wake him and hold him for it to pass.

Tonight is not one of those nights.

He's lost in the woods without Halig, without Finan. His lungs are burning with the need for air, and Sverri's dogs, their teeth like knives, are at his heels. He’s caught and dragged back, only to be tied to the slave ship's bow, in Halig's place. Soon Uhtred is shivering, cold and wet to the bone, and choking on salt water. And then, in a particularly cruel twist, Uhtred becomes the one holding the whip, the one driving the slaves to pull harder.

Uhtred thrashes, throwing the furs off of his sweat covered body, his throat raw from calling out for Halig, and the taste of bile and regret thick on his tongue. Ensnared by guilt, he feels he doesn’t deserve his wife’s loving touch, and he brusquely shrugs off her hand as if it had burned him.

He ignores her when she says his name. She can’t even tell if he's awake or still asleep. As he sits and stares into nothingness, eyes wet and lifeless, she goes out and fetches Finan, convinced he’s the only one who can pull Uhtred out of his trance.

**

A sleep rumpled Finan heads straight to the loft, and then kneels on the floor so he can look into Uhtred's lowered eyes. Whereas Uhtred did not seem to see Gisela earlier, he sees Finan immediately. The Irishman murmurs reassuring words as he helps Uhtred into a tunic. He then guides the Dane down the stairs and into the main hall, where they sit at their usual corner of the dinning table. Gisela pours them two mugs of ale. Finan nods his thanks, his hand rubbing Uhtred's upper back soothingly. Gisela gives him a tight grateful smile, leaving her husband in Finan’s trustworthy hands, and returns to bed.

She had seen the scars, had been told of Halig's death, but Uhtred had made clear he didn't like talking about what happened and Gisela respected her husband's wish. She knew Finan had lived it all by her husband's side, which meant Uhtred didn't have to say or explain anything to him; a simple look was all that was required for them to understand each other. Truthfully, Gisela doesn't mind being shielded from the full weight of this horror, so she thanks the gods everyday for Finan's presence in their lives.

Lulled by Finan’s faint low voice, Gisela uneasily drifts back to sleep.

She wakes up moments later, unsure of how long she'd dozed off. She only knows she’s alone in bed, so she decides to quietly check on the men below. They are still siting, silently holding their mugs, Finan clutching Uhtred's shoulder. There’s an unusual intensity to their gazes. Nose to nose, all bated breaths and darkened eyes, in that moment, it appears to Gisela that they are about to fight.

She frowns and holds her breath.

Instead, Uhtred cups Finan's cheek and kisses him, gently. After a surprised raise of his eyebrows, Finan responds, his kiss so full of naked want Gisela feels it set her own loins on fire. She knows exactly how Finan feels. She had herself been taken with Uhtred the first time she laid eyes on him. Had it been the same for Finan?

“Finan, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. We cannot...” Uhtred murmurs, suddenly pulling away.

“I know... You love Gisela.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking...”

“Aye,” Finan sighs, resignedly. He still places his hand over his lord's cheek, Uhtred leaning into the touch just for a moment.

Gisela watches them pull away from each other, sees the regret and pain on the Irishman’s face and wonders what her husband's face might reveal if it were visible to her. Finan wishes him good night and leaves for his hut. Gisela tiptoes back to bed.

**

Uhtred joins Gisela in bed, tucking himself close to his wife's warm body. Gisela feels her husband's hardness against the back of her thigh and hums, pleased. She had already decided to discuss what she had just seen, and her husband’s lingering state of arousal only solidify her resolve.

“Feeling better, I see,” she teases, pressing back.

Uhtred hums. “Much.”

“Do you love me, Uhtred?” She asks quietly.

“Of course, I love you,” he answers, kissing her neck, and looping his arm around her waist to pull her closer.

“What about Finan?”

Uhtred stills and frowns behind her, his heart beating a little harder in his chest. “What about him?” he asks, unable to inject any amusement in his tone.

“I have eyes to see,” she says.

“Whatever you think you saw, it was nothing...” Uhtred babbles.

“He's more than a friend, or a brother,” she interrupts.

Uhtred still remembers Finan's words to Ragnar, that first night of freedom on the beach. Ally, friend, brother; those words were not enough. _Bound_. That had been the heart of it. Bound and intertwined, through loss, and pain, and horror. Hope, also. Then, only for a moment, through lust and pleasure. And finally through battle, and healing. “I've told you. We are... _bound_ ,” he replies.

“Yes, you are,” she agrees, turning to him. “When the gods brought you back to me, they also bound you to Finan. Did you lay with him?”

Uhtred swallows around the lump in his throat. “We were together only once, after the slave ship. Before we rode for you at the nunnery.”

“And never since?”

“No. We rode for you, then Alfred made me swear his oath. Then came Dunholm. And then my estate...” Uhtred recounts. “Being with him that night, it made me feel alive again. It warmed me, gave me hope.” He sighs. “But you... your love healed me, also. Your beauty, your kindness... I would not be who I am today without them.”

“It's alright, Uhtred. I believe there’s enough room in your heart for me _and_ Finan. It need not be split in half.” She kisses him, noticing that his erection has flagged. “You will invite him again, and you will allow him to stay. If you want to kiss him, then do so. With my permission.”

“What?...” Uhtred lifts himself on his elbow to better look at her face. He can feel his heartbeat in his temples, feels a little dizzy from it. His wife was suggesting he did something he hadn't allowed himself to imagine.

“Does he bed women?” She asks, smirking when his eyes widen in surprise.

“Finan?... Yes, of course.” When he and his men visited an inn, Uhtred had seen Finan disappear into rooms with women, a large hand over the small of their backs. It wasn't something he liked to think about, because he felt the sting of undue jealousy when he did. He had Finan’s friendship and loyalty, but no claim over Finan’s body, regardless of what had transpired that night. The prick of jealousy was usually short lived however, only to be replaced by unbidden images of Finan undressing the young maidens, holding them up in his strong arms, and skillfully bringing them pleasure.

“He is handsome, and strong,” Gisela murmurs huskily, echoing Uhtred's own thoughts. “I bet he’s a skilled lover...” She is gratified when her husband's member begins to harden again against her thigh, glad that her words are drawing such a reaction.

“Do you really mean all this?” Uhtred asks, half afraid this had been a test he'd just failed miserably.

She rolls her eyes, but smiles. “Do I ever waste my breath with words I do not mean, love?”

“No,” he answers with a grin, rolling on top of her.

Gisela hums and kisses Uhtred's cheek. “Tell me, do you love him?”

When Uhtred had been with Finan, it definitely hadn’t been just sex, but it hadn’t been love either. It had been communion. An exercise of free will after months of complete servility. A choice to feel good with someone fully trusted, someone Uhtred knew needed exactly the same as he.

Uhtred loved Gisela, he knew that. As sure as the sun rose every morning. Wouldn't he be just as certain if he were in love with Finan too? Hadn't he always known when he fell for someone? He was only confused, wasn’t he? His body remembered the comfort and the pleasure Finan had brought him that one night, and tonight’s nightmare, coupled with Finan’s calming presence, had awakened memories of those feelings. It made sense, didn’t it?

“I do not know,” Uhtred finally answers.

“Do you think he loves you?” She presses on.

On that beach, Uhtred had known with complete certainty Finan's mind. But now? They were not the same men. Uhtred had been one man before, had been another that night, and was now yet another – a more prudent, less prideful man than before. A man who better knows his limits, who knows how fragile and precious his soul is, a soul pieced back together by Gisela's love and Finan's loyalty and care. Hadn’t Finan been hesitant that night? And he certainly hadn’t mentioned it or even alluded to it since. Uhtred absolutely trusted Finan, but he could not claim to be privy to what exactly went on in the Irishman's heart. Guessing wrong could bring hurt and embarrassment, not only for himself, but for Finan as well.

“I do not know,” Uhtred repeats, frustrated.

“Then, it’s time to find out what exactly is between you two. We will invite him. Tomorrow,” she insists, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“Me and Finan...” Uhtred waves his hand in the air vaguely. “I can’t believe you’re suggesting such a thing.”

“I wish for you – _us_ – to be happy. The earls from our homeland often take two wives and live happy lives. This is no different,” she explains with a shrug.

“And you’re not jealous?” He insists, still incredulous.

“I think I'm much more likely to lose you to Alfred's oath than to Finan's lying with you. Besides, if it works out, he can keep you from straying while you’re away from home.”

Uhtred huffs, knowing she's only teasing him. “Then, I will invite him.” Uhtred tenderly kisses his wife. An incredible feeling of freedom and weightlessness replaces the tightness that twisted his heart in his chest only moments earlier, when Finan had walked away from him. Her wisdom, kindness and love never cease to amaze him.

Gisela pulls back to take her fill of Uhtred's wide smile. All the silver and jewels in the world pale in comparison.

That night, he makes love to her passionately. When he comes, he cries out her name, buries his face into her neck and collapses, whispering I love yous against her skin.

**

“I will smell like a woman,” Uhtred protests when Gisela pours oil into the tub he's sitting in.

“Would it be such a horrible thing? As I recall, you like the way I smell. I'm sure Finan will like it too. In any case, it's only a few drops,” she replies.

Uhtred huffs. “Shall I wear one of your dresses too? Ask him to bring me flowers?”

Undeterred, Gisela puts away the oil and rolls up her sleeves. “Yes, fresh cut flowers would look lovely on the table. As for the dress... we can try a few after the bath and see which one best compliments your eyes.”

Uhtred chuckles tightly, submerged up to his armpits, wisps of lightly scented steam rising from the bathwater. It smells nice, but there's no way he’ll admit it out loud. “If this is all just a joke to you, maybe we should call it off.”

Gisela kneels on the floor behind her husband, wrapping her arms around him and kissing the back of his neck once before replying.

“Ah, yes. Would you be the one to tell Finan he cannot have any of my rabbit stew tonight after all?”

Uhtred sighs dramatically. “The man would probably kill me. Or worse, cry,” he allows. His stomach gives another anxious lurch, one of many he's experienced since he’d woken up and realized that last night's conversation with his wife hadn't been a wild dream.

“Are you nervous?” She asks in his ear, her hands dipping below the water to caress his chest.

Uhtred cannot hide his emotions from Gisela, nor does he want to. “Yes,” he admits simply.

She kisses the back of his ear. “It will be alright, my love. He's not going to say no.”

“He might. He is Christian, is he not? It’s a sin to them, _and_ you and I are married. He might not want to damn his soul to an eternity of suffering,” he argues.

“I'm quite sure he'd agree he's already done enough to earn himself damnation. What would a little more sin matter? He will not say no.” Gisela seems completely convinced, and maybe she’s right.

“That's what I'm afraid of...” Uhtred mumbles.

“You're afraid he'll say yes?” She asks, frowning.

“What if he says yes, and then I realize I made a mistake?”

“You’re afraid you’re chasing after what you felt that night and won’t find it again?”

He turns towards her, grasping her delicate wrist with his hand underwater. “Something like that, yes.”

Gisela hums, and shushes her husband. “If you cannot go through with it, Finan will understand. But it won’t come to that.” She slides her hand lower, takes her husband's cock in her hand and strokes it, swiftly bringing him to hardness. “All will be well. I know it. Now close you eyes.”

Uhtred obeys. He exhales shakily, relaxes back and hands himself over to his beloved wife’s touch, over to pleasure that deliciously melts the tension in his limbs.

**

Uhtred meets Hild on his way back to the hall from the gardens.

“For Gisela?” She asks, nodding at the bouquet of fresh wild flowers in Uhtred's hand.

“Who else? She needed more herbs for her rabbit stew,” he explains, waving the thyme he holds in his other hand. “Finan's favorite.”

“Ah,” Hild intones, nodding toward Finan who is currently bent over the grinding stone at the blacksmith's shop, sharpening one of his knives.

A small group of young women attending to their laundry by the well are hiding their smiles behind slender hands, as they watch Finan work. He looks back and winks at the girls, eliciting a burst of laughter from the blushing young women. He smiles teasingly and turns his gaze toward the hall. He spies Uhtred with Hild and offers a quick wave and a shrug. Uhtred responds with a nod, repressing a smile at Finan's antics, as his stomach flips in anticipation of tonight yet again.

“Uhtred?” Hild calls out.

“What?” Uhtred hadn't even heard her question.

“I asked if Finan will ever get married?”

“How should I know what goes on in that mad Irishman's head?” he replies, smirking fondly.

“You know that 'mad Irishman' better than anyone,” she retorts. “It's not like there's a lack of candidates,” she says, tilting her head toward the well.

Uhtred shrugs. “Maybe he's waiting for someone special?”

“Like you and Gisela?”

He knows perfectly well that Hild means Finan is waiting for his own Gisela. But he cannot help a smirk at the other possible meaning. “Something like that, yes,” he agrees, kissing her forehead before heading home. He barely resists looking back at Finan when he hears a splash, and then the girls giggle in delight.

**

Gisela, Uhtred and Finan have dinner together, just the three of them, like they often do. But Uhtred is much quieter than usual, leaving most of the conversation to Gisela and Finan.

After the meal, she brings out their best bottle of mead right before excusing herself, claiming having to help her friend finish sewing a new dress. She bids them good evening, kisses Finan on the cheek, then kisses her husband on the lips. “Be strong, be happy,” she whispers in his ear before leaving the hall.

Silence falls after Gisela's departure. Uhtred clears his throat and stares into the bouquet as nerves twist his stomach yet again.

“Hmm. This mead is excellent,” Finan comments, seemingly unaware of Uhtred’s turmoil.

“A present from the King of Wessex,” Uhtred replies. He hears Finan's intake of breath and looks at him, finding the Irishman frowning at his cup. “Something wrong?”

Finan shakes his gaze away from his drink, and licks his lips. “You should have saved it for a special occasion. This is hardly fitting...” he says, raising his cup in front of him.

“Oh. It _is_.” Uhtred declares. He drains his own cup, barely tasting the sweet wine. He sets it down and looks at Finan who's now permanently shifted his frown from his drink to Uhtred's face. Uhtred swallows hard and dives in. Hesitating was never his style, and besides, Gisela would kill him if he backed out now.

“Gisela knows about us,” he announces plainly. He suddenly needs more wine, so he pours himself another cup of mead to avoid looking at Finan.

Finan sighs. “When do I leave?”

“What?” Confused, Uhtred looks at Finan now, and stares.

“I can pack all my things and be gone within the day,” the Irishman mumbles, staring into his cup, chin down.

Uhtred realizes two things: First, Finan had understood exactly _what_ Gisela now knew, and second, he completely misunderstood what the consequences of Gisela’s new found knowledge were. It saddened Uhtred that Finan dared think he could be cast away; they were bound. Promises of protection and loyalty until death had been made.

Uhtred drinks all of his mead again, idly thinking it is indeed a waste of good wine to just pour it down his throat like this, but he doesn't care. Finan seems so heartbroken, and all Uhtred knows is that he needs to fix this, and quickly. He rids himself of his cup, reaches for Finan's free hand. Holding it between his own, Uhtred gently presses his lips to the back of it, to gain his full attention and better drive his point home.

“You are not going anywhere,” he says firmly.

“What about Gisela?” Finan asks hoarsely, his eyebrows knit.

Uhtred kisses Finan's hand lightly again, “Gisela is a pagan woman. At first, I thought she might kill me, but instead she told me to invite you and open the mead. She said she wanted me to be happy. Us, all of us. She...”

The fine wine now forgotten, Finan drags his chair closer, leans forward and kisses the words right off of Uhtred lips. “ _She_... is a truly wonderful woman,” Finan finishes for him, his forehead pressed to Uhtred's.

“Only the best for Uhtred of Bebbanburg,” the Dane says cockily, Finan's reaction emboldening him. “And that includes _you_.”

“No need for flattery. Don't you know I'm easy?” Finan replies, tilting his head, his nose nudging Uhtred's. His words are meant to be playful, but they come out low and hoarse, betraying Finan's arousal. The fire is crackling behind them, enveloping them is a soft orange glow. The Irishman's hand finds its way to the back of Uhtred's neck, pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

As he feels the soft bristles of Finan's beard on his face, Uhtred wonders why he hadn't done this on their first night of freedom. Finan's lips are soft and warm, sticky with honey wine. His calloused hands – hands that drive _blades_ through Uhtred's enemies – now slide over his neck to carefully cup his face. A nick of Finan's teeth on his bottom lip sends a wave of heat though the Dane.

Finan looks at Uhtred, something unmistakably soft in his gaze. He runs his thumb over Uhtred's lush bottom lip, then slips his hands to the buttons of Uhtred's tunic. Uhtred's cheeks start to burn as Finan undoes the garment and pushes it open, exposing his chest.

Finan takes Uhtred’s Thor's hammer between his fingers, slides the pad of his thumb over the small engravings. “Your gods did a bloody fine job when they created you...” he says hoarsely. Then he runs his hands down Uhtred's muscled chest, eyes darkening with arousal. Uhtred's chiseled abdomen quivers under the touch, and he's unable to shake the feeling he's being somehow worshiped.

Uhtred pulls Finan into another kiss, sloppier, more desperate than the ones before. Finan groans when Uhtred's tongue finally tangles with his, Uhtred's cock throbbing at the obvious hunger in the sound.

Finan is the first to pull away, hands caressing down Uhtred's upper body again, a thumb catching the bump of a nipple, causing Uhtred to inhale sharply.

Uhtred can only watch, spellbound, as Finan slips to his knees in front of him. He turns to face Finan, to allow him to work his belt loose and his trousers open. The air of the darkened hall feels cool on Uhtred's bare cock, which is already fully hard and leaking. Finan just stares at it once it’s freed, his hands rubbing the top of Uhtred’s thighs, gently squeezing the strong muscles of his legs. After what seems an eternity, Finan leans closer. So close Uhtred feels the other man’s breath on his cock. So close it almost hits Finan on the nose when it jumps in anticipation.

Uhtred groans and rocks his hips. “Finan...” he murmurs. Finan looks up with half lidded eyes, and flashes him that smirk, the one he saves for before battle. Uhtred suddenly feels so hot, he thinks he might melt right off his chair.

Uhtred's eyes roll back in his head, and he moans and bucks as Finan licks up his cock from root to tip. His hands, apparently having a mind of their own, latch on to the back of Finan's head when the Irishman finally takes him into his mouth. Uhtred doesn't apply any strength; he just rests his fingers over his soft short hair. He's half-disbelieving what is happening just as Finan takes more of his cock inside his hot, wet mouth. Finan doesn't stop until almost all of Uhtred's cock is in his mouth, then he pulls back and sucks him back in, settling into a rhythm Uhtred does his best not to match in spade.

Then, without warning, he's swallowed whole, the tip of Finan's nose pressing against his belly, his beard tickling his balls.

“Gods...” Uhtred groans, “That's...” He feels Finan's throat contract and squeeze his cock as the Irishman swallows around him. He's almost overcome then, but Finan is pulling back, his tongue tracing lazy patterns along Uhtred's length, sending shivers up his spine.

It occurs to Uhtred that Finan probably did not learn this from simply having it done to him. It occurs to him that whatever apprehension he thought Finan might have about lying with men had been imagined. It also occurs to him that Finan might have wanted to do this to him for a long time, that of all the things he could have done, he chose to kneel like this and give him pleasure. Just as having Gisela's permission to re-visit what had happened with Finan, it unlocks something in Uhtred’s chest. The gods had lifted the veil from his eyes and allowed Uhtred to finally truly examine his bond with Finan.

It hadn't been love _then_ , but what is it _now_? Now that he's regained his center, his purpose, what else could he call this constant longing for Finan? What else could he call that flutter in his chest when Finan flashed him that characteristic smirk of his before charging into the fray? What else could he call the warmth that filled his belly when their knees touched under the table, late at night while they drank? What else could he call it when just last night he hadn't been able to stop himself from kissing Finan – something he hadn't done before, not that first night of freedom, not ever? Had he not been aroused then, and hungry for more? Hungry to be close to him not only in mind but in body?

Had he not noticed with no small satisfaction that Finan was an exceptional warrior? Didn't Uhtred feel pride at unleashing Finan upon the battlefield? _This_ , he thought, _this weapon is mine and only mine_. Something selfish inside him was pleased that Finan deserved his place by his side in all ways, and that his favorite man was also his best man, the perfect excuse to have Finan present by his side as much as possible. Had he not noticed how Finan's health had returned quickly, not been paying attention to the way his body had filled in? Had he not noticed how Finan's eyes appeared as dark as onyx around a campfire or shone like amber when the sun hit them just the right way?

Oh, Uhtred notices many things about the men around him; how the line of Alfred's nose made him look regal, how beneath his battle scars Leofric had been a handsome man, how Syhtric's high cheekbones and large eyes made all the girls – and some men – look at him longingly. These traits were seen and then forgotten, none touching that secret, intimate place inside of Uhtred like Gisela’s, none but Finan’s. How could he not have seen it before?

Uhtred finds that the disquiet that constantly swirled right beneath his skin since his return has evaporated.

Finan's mouth wanders lower, drawing Uhtred from his thoughts, lavishing Uhtred's balls with his tongue one minute, then kissing his inner thigh the next. Uhtred cradles the Irishman's chin, tilts his head up to makes him look into his eyes. “I should warn you. If you do that again, I will spill right down your throat...” he rasps, clearly daring Finan to do just that.

The challenge in Finan's eyes mirrors the challenge in Uhtred's voice. He keeps his gaze locked with Uhtred's, licking his way back up his cock in one delicious slow slide. He sucks him in all over again, his clever tongue moving from side to side as he does. He grasps Uhtred's hips, pulling him in further, inviting him to move.

With heat quickly coiling again in his lower belly, Uhtred cannot resist the temptation: he rocks his hips once carefully, Finan producing a pleased hum that makes Uhtred's head spin. The Dane pulls back and tilts his hips forward again, only this time he also presses Finan against him, holds him there with his hands, his mouth tight and hot all around his length. He feels the back of his throat... and he is gone. Thighs trembling, he fulfills his promise, and spills his seed, barely remembering to let go of Finan's head though the thick haze of his pleasure. Finan, bless him, drinks everything he is given before releasing Uhtred from his lips.

There’s a quiet moment, where only the men catching their breath can be heard in the hall.

“Something tells me this wasn't your first time...” Uhtred says when he's able to speak again.

“Are you callin' me a whore, my lord?” Finan retorts, his accent thick and his voice a little rougher for wear. His tone is playful and his eyes shine as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Uhtred’s chest flutters with warmth and fondness at the sight.

“No, I'm giving you praise. And do not call me _lord_.” Uhtred tries to sound stern and fails as he clumsily tucks himself back into his trousers.

“Ever? Wouldn't that be strange in front of the lads? Besides, I like callin' you lord.”

“ _Uhtred_ will do. When we are alone.” Smirking, Uhtred offers his hand to Finan who takes it and lets himself be pulled to his feet. Keeping Finan's hand in his, Uhtred heads up the stairs. “Come on.”

**

Once at the top, Uhtred lets go of Finan's hand to throw a couple of logs into the fire by the bed.

“No need for that. I'll keep you warm,” Finan says through a smirk as Uhtred stalks closer.

“It's not for warmth, but for light. For I wish to see _everything_.” Uhtred reaches out, hooking his fingers inside Finan's leather vest to pull him closer as he speaks. The strap around Finan’s neck is already undone, but the heavy silver buckle is still fastened over his chest. Uhtred makes quick work of it, Finan slipping the light armor off and dropping it to the floor carelessly.

Uhtred slowly pulls the plaid tunic over Finan's head, revealing the Irishman's bare body. He picks up the gold cross hanging around Finan's neck, a fine piece of jewelry in Uhtred's opinion – well, for a Christian cross, anyway. “Your one god did well when he created you too...” he murmurs, placing a hand over Finan's bicep before tugging the man by his necklace, just close enough to kiss him again.

As their mouths leisurely slide against one another, Uhtred’s hand drifts over Finan’s shoulder, then down his back, over the raised ridges of the scars left by Sverri's whip. They are familiar, yet Uhtred realizes he hadn't seen Finan's back since he'd tended to the wounds. Finan kept his upper body covered, always. Even when they had built the hall, toiling in the hot sun, Finan hadn't removed his shirt in search of relief like Uhtred had done, unconcerned who saw the scars.

Uhtred walks around Finan, to lightly trace the scars on Finan's back, and then kiss along them. No words are needed to convey what he feels. Then he guides Finan to his bed, makes him sit on the edge of the mattress. Uhtred removes Finan’s boots and trousers, coming face to face with Finan's arousal for the first time. The Dane swallows hard.

“I do not think I can do to you what you did to me.” Uhtred is not afraid to admit he’s intimidated. He simply isn’t quite ready for that.

“Oh. Finally. We found something I’m better at than you.” Finan grins.

Uhtred shakes his head and chuckles. “Shut up and lay down for me.”

Finan is strong, yet built for speed, with long, muscular yet lean arms and legs. Uhtred openly appreciates seeing him laid out bare on his bed; his chest, his flat belly, those grooves underneath his hips, his cock, hard and flushed with obvious need. Pressing himself to Finan’s body takes Uhtred back to that night, but this is different. Uhtred isn't a sail-less ship at the mercy of the currents, he is not flailing and grasping desperately for any shred of safety to avoid drowning. He is Uhtred of Bebbanburg, and he wants to see Finan flush and gasp with pleasure under his hands and remember every details. Etch them in his mind, like ink on one of Alfred’s precious scrolls, forever.

He nuzzles into Finan's neck, kisses the sensitive skin there as he slides his hands down his chest, down his ribs, over his stomach, eager to learn the Irishman's body. Finan's hand tangles into Uhtred's hair as the Dane licks down his throat, making Finan groan in pleasure. He licks over a nipple, his hand traveling lower beyond his hips to touch the muscles of Finan's thighs, wickedly ignoring his member which has been leaking abundantly, creating a small puddle on his belly. He licks his lips, wondering how Finan would taste, making him rethink his decision not to put his mouth on him tonight.

He feels a little selfish for teasing Finan like this, for drawing it out for so long while he's already been satisfied. It's hard to feel bad about it though, because Finan seems to be enjoying himself, eyes closed now, panting, shivering under Uhtred's lips and fingertips like he's been starving for his touch all this time. And he probably had.

“Uhtred...” Finan finally pleads, spreading his legs a little wider. He takes Uhtred's hand, pushes it deeper between his thighs, making his fingertips ghost over his perineum before making them gently cup his balls. Finan moans at the caress, but he pulls Uhtred's hand higher, where he _really_ wants it. Uhtred's spent cock twitches at Finan's impatience.

Taking him in hand for the first time draws a lovely gasp from Finan. Uhtred lets Finan guide him into a rhythm, the desired pressure, relishing Finan’s reactions, his back already arching off the bed, his labored breaths. Finan lets go of Uhtred’s hand to grasp a handful of fur instead. Uhtred is pulled into a kiss which he regretfully breaks after a moment, in order to look down as he strokes Finan’s cock. Finan’s lips are pressed to his ear, the Irishman panting, and then babbling sweetly into Uhtred’s ear.

“So good, Uhtred. So good. I've wanted this, I've wanted you.”

“You have me, Finan,” Uhtred murmurs, adding a swipe of his thumb across the tip of Finan’s cock before speeding up his movements. Finan’s thighs are trembling, his body grows taut, and Uhtred stares in awe as Finan comes, his back bowed, and his seed splattering on his belly in thick lines and dribbling over the Dane’s fingers.

Finan sags back into the furs with a sigh, opens his eyes and finds Uhtred looking down at him with a fond smile. Finan smiles back, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glassy, looking as if he always belonged in Uhtred and Gisela’s bed. Uhtred thinks he’s never looked so good.

**

Gisela returns home later, while her husband and Finan are lying in bed, huddled together. Uhtred is awake and watches as his wife slips off her dress, his soft smile mirroring her own. He pulls the furs open for her. At the movement, Finan jerks awakes, lifts his head, and then becomes perfectly still. Eyes wide, he looks at Gisela, then looks at Uhtred.

“Maybe I should go home to my bed...” Finan suggests, voice uncertain and scratchy from sleep.

“You will do no such thing,” Uhtred tells him.

“I, huh...” Finan stutters.

“Please, go back to sleep,” Gisela whispers. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Uhtred waits quietly for Gisela to work her soothing magic on his fierce Irishman. She reaches for Finan's wrist, kissing the back of his hand before placing his arm back over Uhtred's middle. He looks at her for a long, quiet moment. Tension seeps out of his body and he lets his head sink back down on the pillow.

“We're all raving mad,” Finan says under his breath. No one contradicts him.

Gisela finally settles under the furs, pressing her back to Uhtred's chest. He curls around her, and Finan readjusts, keeping close.

“Finan?” Gisela calls quietly after a short while.

Finan jerks to attention. “Yes?”

“What do you think of Uhtred's scent?”

Finan huffs a laugh against Uhtred's neck, makes a show of inhaling his scent. “It's lovely. Just like yours, my lady,” Finan answers.

“Told you, husband, didn't I?”

“Yes, you did. You’re always right.”

“Yes. And do not forget it,” she says without any real heat.

“I'll make sure he doesn't,” Finan pipes up from behind Uhtred.

Uhtred keeps quiet for long moment, his throat tightening with emotion at the easy exchange between them. As he lays between Gisela and Finan, so warm and comfortable, Uhtred _knows_. He knows he is in love with Gisela _and_ Finan – as sure as the sun will be rising in the morning – and he feels blessed by the gods.

Soon, his body starts to shake beyond his control, his tears wetting Gisela's shoulder as he all but weeps against her. He cries for what he lost; he cries for what he unexpectedly gained on that slave ship. Uhtred is wracked with waves of utter relief and gratefulness as Gisela and Finan silently tighten their hold by protectively lacing their arms together around him.


End file.
